


Reflection

by Youholdmenow



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-15 01:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3432224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Youholdmenow/pseuds/Youholdmenow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camila finds herself at the fields, where she once was four years ago. (Camren)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflection

A certain thought came into my mind as my thoughts gravitated toward her. A mere thought had brought me back to the position I was in 4 years ago as I sat in the fields, surrounded by the remainder of the people who once were, she being one of them. 

I had lost her, but yet, she seemed to live so brightly in my mind, memories of her, and what we used to be. I remember the days we would lay, side by side, and discuss future plans we had for ourselves, each having included the other in them. I remember twirling her around the fields of white lilies, that we had gardened to life ourselves, to celebrate her 19th birthday. White lilies were always her favorite. I also remembered when we found out she couldn't have children. The sadness that vividly embroidered her facial features was only a slight indication of the pain she must have felt. She never once spoke about having children again, but she loved them still, dedicating her life to a career in young education. 

"Is this Lauren?," the young boy beside me asked. I nodded, holding his soft hands in one of my own, and a bundle of white lilies in the other. I started to kneel slightly, and placed the flowers at the base of the engraved that stood in front of us. It was a bright day, with the sun shining and the birds chirping, but it didn't feel the same in my heart. It hadn't since her departure from this world. It was as if a part of my heart was taken with her, and for years, I tried to fill that hole with tainted images of love I thought I would find once again, only to come back to her, knowing no one could give me the same she once did for me. 

"Was she pretty?," he asked. I felt my lips curve slightly upward, as I turned my head, and faced him. His green eyes shined with curiosity, as they darted from the stone beside us, to me. They reminded me of her, containing elements of love and pain with each glance given, only having the best of the best being able to decipher the feelings the emerald orbs exuded. I hope to this day I was one of those people.

"She was very pretty," I replied to him, "The prettiest of them all. All the girls and boys would line up just to be friends with her. But she chose me, out of so many people, to be her friend, and then more." There was a puncture in my chest, at the words that fell from my mouth. She chose me, but she was yet to be content. Where did I go wrong? Did I not give her enough love? 

"Was she your best friend?"

"More than that. She was so special to me, that she took a piece of my heart with her, wherever she went, to this day. I was in love with her." 

"Are you in love with her now?" 

"Yes." I couldn't have stopped if I had tried. The certain feeling she gave me, to this day, was irreplaceable. I am in love with her. After 4 years of not having her physical existence with me, I could still remember the exhilarating rush of joy and sensuality that filled my body to the core that came when her lips found mine, fitting together like pieces of the same puzzle. I can still feel pure love that she radiated when I was holding her hand, or so I had thought. Maybe the little actions of love was not enough. Maybe I just was not enough and didn't give her the fulfillment in life everyone looked for, to give them a reason to carry on. 

"Why is she not here, loving you back?" 

"You can't love someone if you don't love yourself," I breathed out. She loved me, I was assured of that fact. And from these few seconds of reflection from the three year old's words, I had once thought my love was enough to cure the insecurities she had about her existence, or to just give her a reason to live. She tried so hard, now I think back, to return the favor of love, but her heart couldn't align with her actions fully. Because it was not enough, I should have known. I shouldn't have been so naive and neglected the option of professional help, because then, she might have still been beside me in person, instead of the situation now, her representation as a grave.

"What happens when you don't love yourself?" 

"You lose sight of who you are. You forget about how much people love you because all you can see is sad things in life. You start to think you don't deserve love people give you, like from mommies or daddies, or best friends, and you try to find love you think you deserve. You find fake love because you think you don't deserve real love." 

"She did try to find fake love?" 

"She did." She had tried so hard to stray away from us, I can remember that clearly. Her mind always seemed to be clouded with interruptions of a pure mind. She came home to me, at the end of the day, but the excitement of coming home to me seemed to dull in those days. What I had not known was those were to be have some of the last days I would have physical contact with her. I did something, and that something, was nothing. I didn't try and regret now, even after 4 years. I should have known. I should have helped.

"What happened?" 

"She was in pain, and couldn't take much of it any longer. A person a could handle so much pain." Yes, she felt pain. It hurts every time that piece of knowledge would register in my mind. All the days she had refused to look at me, all those days she had refused to let me make physical contact with her. It all made sense. All those small things had led to her decision. All those small things I had realized, and still I did nothing. I allowed her to slip away from my grasp and now, I have to pay the penalties of pain, that she might have once felt. 

"You can't blame yourself. Maybe she was just in pain from herself," the three year old said, as I felt the words sink deep into my skin, my flesh. Was it not my fault? Was I not to blame for not at least trying to hear her? She was in pain and yet, for someone who she had claimed to trust the most, was not present in that suffering with her. Though it might have been her pain, I should have helped is some way, anyway, instead of allowing her to fall into bottomless pits of emptiness. 

"Do you think she would have been my other mama?" 

"Yes."


End file.
